


would you like to see my hockey stick?

by Sybill



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Language Barrier, Languages and Linguistics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybill/pseuds/Sybill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Guide To Overcoming Language Barriers, according to Alex Ovechkin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	would you like to see my hockey stick?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkrosaleen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/gifts).



**A Guide To Overcoming Language Barriers, according to Alex Ovechkin**

_The Finger (and other obscene gestures)_

Sasha doesn’t accept that these were ever English in the first place. 

_Gestures (other)_

Need to piss? Eat? Drink? Indicate to a teammate that there’s a hot puckbunny over there, and you’re calling dibs? Gestures are your friend.

_Trash Talk_

No need to learn English. Trash-talking in Russian is better anyway. You can say absolutely filthy things, and as long as there aren’t any babushkas in the front row, you’ll get away with it. Besides, it’s all in the delivery – it doesn’t really matter what you _say_ , as long as you say it with enough ferocity. Sasha amuses himself one game by spitting out his favorite pelmeni recipe in his best menacing manner, until Kuznetsov punches him in the arm and tells him to knock it off, he’s making him hungry.

_Ordering Food_

Many restaurants have pictures on their menus. But Sasha’s diet is pretty much the same most of the time, so he learns the words quickly. There may have been an embarrassing period of time where he was confused about why puckbunnies were called chickens. But somebody explained that they had breasts just like chickens – with helpful illustrative gestures – and everything became clear.

_Interviews_

It’s pretty rare for journalists to come up with new questions. Sasha learns the script quickly. What to say after a good game. What to say after a bad game. What to say when people talk shit about you on American television, which is a flood of mat (no, not really, don’t use mat in America, unless you don’t have anybody around who’ll understand. And see “trash talk” for how much people usually understand, if your tone matches what you’re saying.)

_Picking Up a Girl_

A good leer is your friend. Cheerful, appreciative, and non-threatening. A gap-toothed smile is helpful, both for establishing your cuteness and for reminding her who you are (hockey player, very famous). Learn a few lines – “you look beautiful”, “can I buy you a drink”, “would you like to see my hockey stick?” – and you’re in.

_Talking to Teammates_

About twenty lines you need to learn, Sasha thinks. Maybe thirty. Half of them are sincere (“good game”), and half of them are taking the piss (“yeah, that’s what your mother said last night”). But most of it’s hockey (see “hockey”).

_Hockey_

This is the important thing. Sasha thinks that you can speak absolutely no English, and as long as you can play hockey, you’re fine. Skates on ice - thudding into the boards - the crowd sucking in its breath, the race down the ice after a breakaway - the swish of the puck as it hits net – the fetid smell of the locker room after a match - if you speak hockey, that’s all that matters. You can read disappointment and joy, exhaustion and determination, in the faces of the other players. Spit varenyky recipes in their faces (or a flood of mat), tell them their mothers are dried-up old chickens (or that you’ll fuck their sisters), get in a fight and draw blood (and spit blood yourself). All that matters is the game, and the fierce joy of the chase. All that matters is the screams of the crowd as you grin, wide and happy, as they add another goal to your total. Hockey. It’s everything.

~~~

_Postscript_

“I don’t need help with my English, asshole,” Zhenya says, pinching him mercilessly. 

Sasha grins. “I was thinking of adding a bit, just for you.”

Zhenya doesn’t look impressed.

“It’s called, how to get stupid Russians to fuck you,” Sasha says, in English, and swings a leg over Zhenya’s broad lap. 

“You’d better be calling yourself the stupid Russian,” Zhenya starts, but Sasha puts an end to that with his mouth.

Biting. That definitely needs to go on the list. Obscene gesture, or just gesture, though? Suarez might argue the point…

But Sasha’s tired of English for the moment. He’s got better things to do. And the advantage of fucking a Russian is that he can tell Zhenya all about them, in great and lewd detail.

Zhenya groans, and Sasha grins.


End file.
